


Captive Games 2

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: BDSM, Boys in Chains, M/M, Plot What Plot, b/d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Held captive by a terrorist, Jim tries to make the best of things. Bondage of the gentler variety.<br/>This story is a sequel to Captive Games 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captive Games 2

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Maigret - she who keeps me writing, even when real life and procrastination get the better of me. Thank you dear. This little PWP comes courtesy of a couple of great quips Jane Mailander put in her posts. She graciously allowed me to take the ideas and run with 'em. Many, many thanks to my betas - Noon, Maigret and my partner in crime Fortuita. You don't want to know what this looked like before they waded through it. :-)

## Captive Games 2

by Virg Vaughn

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Stage/2326/virgfort.html>

Author's disclaimer: The boys only belong to me in my twisted imagination. (Which is mine and only mine.) In RL they belong to a bunch of suits at Paramount and UPN and their ultimate creators - Pet Fly.

* * *

Jim wearily climbed the stairs. Was it just his imagination or had they grown steeper the past few days? Good lord, he was tired. He had been working doubles since a nasty virus had started tearing its way through headquarters five days ago. This week had been a killer . . . the scum of the earth all seemed to gravitate to Cascade. Of course, Simon Bank's personal attack dog had to be given the cream of the crop to investigate. He was eternally grateful that he had the next two days off. 

Reaching into his pocket for his keys, he heard a muffled thump from behind the door. Odd, he'd figured Sandburg was still at the University. Jim frowned, trying to remember if Blair had afternoon classes on Tuesdays. Providing, of course, that today was Tuesday. It had to be, because he knew he was off tomorrow, and this month his rotation gave him Wednesdays and Thursdays off duty. 

Frustrated over his inability to decide whether he was actually certain it was Tuesday, Jim was distracted and scowling as he entered the loft. He kicked the door closed behind him, shrugged out of his coat and turned to hang it up. Damn, he must be tired if he couldn't be sure what day it was. . . . 

He glanced around the room, reaching out with his hearing. Blair wasn't home. Must have been his imagination, or was he picking up on the neighbors again? He hated it when he was this tired - it always put his senses on the fritz. 

With a sigh, Jim went up to his bedroom to collect clean underwear and sweats. He was covered in filth from his latest wild chase through the squalor of Cascade's dirtiest alleys. Why couldn't criminals try to avoid capture by running through nice clean parks? By the time he had caught the hood he was after, he had dropped his gun twice, been kicked, punched and spat upon. No real damage, but the crud he'd been rolling in was deeply ground into his clothes, skin and hair. All he could think about was standing under a hot shower while the moist heat soothed his bruises and washed away the dirt. 

A shower was exactly what he needed. Letting the pounding of the spray beat his tired, aching muscles into submission felt good enough to make him moan. So hot he could barely stand it, the flood rinsed away the dirt, sweat and grime that encrusted his skin. Luxuriating in the feeling, he scrubbed until every trace of his day was washed away. When the flow began to cool the sentinel reluctantly twisted the taps off. Jim stepped out from behind the curtain into the steam filled air. Eyes tightly closed against the water dripping from his hair, he reached out blindly for a towel. 

Suddenly, he was jumped from behind. His arms were pulled back and held in a powerful grip. Jim tensed every muscle as he prepared to throw off his attacker. 

Before he could move, a low voice rumbled in his ear. "Don't try it. Keep still." The menace in the tone held him immobile. 

"What do you want?" His voice was steady if a little strained. 

"I want you to be quiet and keep still." The words were growled hoarsely into his ear. Jim tensed again, straining to identify the sounds coming from behind him. The heartbeat was rapid, but not labored; neither was the respiration. Cool confidence was there underlying the stress. Not a good sign for him, not good at all. 

Deciding to play along until he knew what was going on and undeniably slowed down by the fatigue that still dragged at him, Jim followed the command. He stayed tight and ready to spring into action at the slightest hesitation from his unknown assailant. Without warning, cool metal was slapped around his wrists, closing with a sharp snick. His stomach lurched . . . he had been handcuffed. 

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?" He wanted to bite back the words even as he heard himself choke them out. A strong hand reached around his chest and determined fingers grasped a nipple, twisting and tweaking it. Sentinel senses spiked, the pain flashing along hyper sensitive nerves. He hissed as his other nipple was given the same rough treatment. 

The voice growled in his ear again. "You ask too many questions, cop. From now on I'll ask the questions." 

The hand that had twisted and pulled at Jim's nipples now skated down his flat stomach. He flinched and tried to pull away, until he felt his balls grasped and squeezed. The grip was firm, but not yet painful. There was no mistaking the implicit threat. 

"I want you to kneel down, cop. I won't be letting go, so you need to follow orders very carefully." 

Moving cautiously, Jim lowered himself to his knees. His captor followed him down, keeping a grip on his testicles. 

"Okay cop. I'm going to let go now. Do as you're told and this won't hurt a bit." 

Jim heard a soft rustle of cloth then a blindfold was pulled over his eyes. He fought down the urge to struggle as it was tied tightly around his head. The cloth was black and dense, with the smooth slippery feel of satin. The layers were thick enough that even with his enhanced sight he couldn't see the slightest glimmer of light through the weave. 

The unreality of Jim's situation flooded his mind. Here he was kneeling naked on his bathroom floor, still dripping from his shower and handcuffed, with his own police issue cuffs if he wasn't mistaken. He didn't know whether he should be frightened or simply humiliated. 

"Ready. I want you to stand up _very_ slowly. And no funny stuff. Or you'll be singing in a whole new octave." 

With his balls back in the hard grasp, Jim carefully rose from the floor. The loss of vision gave him a feeling of disorientation. Drawing on his memory of being blinded by Golden, he tried to reach out with his hearing to compensate for his lack of sight. Before he could adjust to the darkness, a strong grip on his biceps and another on his shoulder pushed him forward and out the bathroom door. Jim shivered as the cool air currents in the hallway flowed over his damp skin. 

He was given no chance to hesitate as his captor pushed and prodded him down the hall and into the living room. Slowing when he reached the center of the room, he was knocked off balance and almost stumbled when he was roughly turned and shoved forward. With a final push, Jim was forced to bend over the railing that led up to his loft bedroom. 

"Stay right there. I don't want you to move a muscle. Do you hear me?" 

Jim pondered for a moment, wondering whether the question actually demanded an answer. Deciding on caution, he murmured an affirmative. There was a slithering sound as something was dragged across the floor. With smooth, sure movements, soft cotton ropes were wrapped around his back, pinning his chest to the rail and easing the strain on his wrists. 

Jim startled at a hollow clatter on the floor behind him. Then he felt the gentle slide of supple leather around his right ankle. It took every ounce of will power to keep himself from jerking away from the tightening of the cuff. The other man moved swiftly, binding his left ankle. Jim's legs were forced apart until he was almost uncomfortably spread. A soft metallic clink was followed by two sharp snaps as something was attached to each cuff. 

Jim could no longer resist the urge to pull against the restraints, fighting to wrench himself free. A cool hand passed between his legs and deft fingers wrapped themselves around his balls again. He grunted as the tender orbs were squeezed and pulled down and back. Straining to pull his legs together, he realized the ankle cuffs were held apart by whatever was attached to them. He could do nothing to protect himself. 

"You really are a slow learner, aren't you?" The warm body of his captor was pressed hard against his back and buttocks. Jim trembled as the heat from the man's body burned into him and his warm breath whispered in his ear. 

"The knots are tight. If you keep struggling you'll only get rope burns for your efforts and I'd rather not have you marked." 

"What is it you want from me?" 

"Ah-ah, I told you no talking." The fingers on his balls tightened a minuscule amount, warning him of his error. His tormentor reached his other arm around Jim's chest, his fingers playing over smoothly muscled pecs and rippled abdomen. 

Ever so slowly the roving hand made its way back up to his left nipple. Strong fingers tightened over the pliant nub, pinching and twisting more gently this time. Jim groaned in response, fighting to arch away from the burn. 

"Like that, cop? There's lots more where that came from." The hand that had been gripping his balls loosened and eased back from between his thighs. 

"Do you really want to know what I want? What do you think it is? You've got influential friends, and Ellison is an old family name here in Cascade." 

"Do you think it might be money . . . ? You'd be wrong. It could be something else. Your father and brother have dealings with a lot of powerful multinational corporations. Could it be that I need to make a statement?" 

All the time his captor was speaking, his hands were roaming over Jim's nude body. Playing with his tender, oversensitive nipples, sliding down his flanks and over his ribs, fondling the tight muscles of his buttocks. Each slide of skin against skin left a trail of fire along tingling nerves. A feeling of lassitude crept over him as he drifted into the sound of the deep voice, following the cadence more than the words. 

Shivering with reaction, he felt the beginnings of an undeniable tightening in his groin. With a herculean effort, Jim jerked himself back from the sensuality of the stroking caresses and the hypnotic quality of the voice whispering in his ear. How could he give himself over to this? This was no gentle seduction. He was being held hostage to the desires of a terrorist. How could he find pleasure in being held against his will? But, there was no denying the gentle strokes over his heated skin or the warmth of the body pressed tightly behind him. 

The denim clad groin prodded his ass. Through the softly worn cloth, he could feel the outline of a rigid cock, tightly encased within the fabric. Dropping his forehead to the railing, Jim shuddered then relaxed into his bonds. 

"That's it, cop. Just relax and enjoy yourself. I've got a list of demands. Do you want to know what they are?" 

Struggling to focus on the question, the sentinel muttered his reply. "What are your demands? What have they got to do with me?" The hands moving slowly over his body never stopped their caresses, exploring every inch of his nude torso. 

"I want so many things. I want world peace, an end to clear cutting in the rain forests and the elimination of hunger." Jim was floating on the sensation of the constant petting and the soft, melodious rhythm of the words. 

"Most of all I want to make you moan, listen to you beg and plead for me to touch you and hear you scream when you come." 

The impact of the last statement made Jim stiffen. He began struggling against the ropes again, fighting the bar that kept his legs spread wide apart. His captor stepped back. There was a sudden rush of air and the sentinel jerked as a hard palm slapped his right buttock. The slap was repeated, this time striking his left cheek. The sting disappeared quickly but the reddened, heated marks on his ass continued to throb. 

The hand that had left the marks returned, petting away the burn. "I told you _not_ to fight this. You keep pulling on those cuffs and fighting the ropes and you'll end up with bruises. I do _not_ want you marked . . . except for the marks that I put on you." 

Jim released a shuddering sigh. Trapped in darkness and held immobile there was nothing he could do to stop his tormentor. As the man behind pressed close once again, he was forced to admit to himself he wasn't even sure if he wanted to. 

Warm hands returned to his chest stroking the smooth swell of his pecs, nimble fingers toying with his nipples. In a long slow glide, the hands moved down his stomach to caress his hips. Another sigh escaped Jim's lips, and he was drifting into the sensual feeling of his captor's touch once more. 

"That's it, let yourself go, Cop. Let yourself feel how good this is." The murmur was deep and husky, the tone awakened something hot and burning inside of him. Then his captor moved away again, leaving him feeling suddenly cold and lost. 

The rustle of clothing being removed and falling to the floor alerted him to the man's actions. Jim dropped his head down on the railing again, rolling his forehead against the cool metal, trying to quiet the seething thoughts racing through his mind. 

The body that pressed against him was now as bare as his own. Jim felt as if he were trapped in the oppressive heat of Peru again. Warm moist breath against the back of his neck was a vivid reminder of humid jungle air. As the terrorist's ridged shaft prodded his cleft, he couldn't stop the groan that vibrated through him. He was on fire, the burn searing his thoughts to cinders. 

He was too tired to fight, too exhausted to think of anything beyond how much his body wanted - needed this touch. The hard metal of the handcuffs holding his hands behind his back, the ropes holding him tight to the railing, the awkward angle of his wide spread legs, none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was the raging inferno of need that burned brighter than a super nova inside of him. 

Swallowing hard, he gasped out, "Do it then . . . just do it." 

A greedy mouth attacked the tender flesh at the base of his neck. Lips, tongue and teeth began a dance of desire, stroking over his sweat-damp skin, sizzling across his shoulder blades, down his spine, nipping and licking a pathway of fire over him. The hands that had never completely stilled massaged his buttocks, strong fingers dipping occasionally to stroke the sensitive, puckered opening hidden between them. 

Jim's breathing was reduced to sharp, short pants and gasps. He became a creature of pure feeling, no thought, no memory, caring only about the here and now and the fulfillment of his driving lust. Shudders rocked his frame, sending tremors down his long legs. Screaming with relief, he thrust frantically when the caressing hands finally came to rest around his aching erection. 

The abused railing began to creak in time with the powerful rocking of Jim's hips. Again and again he sought to bury his throbbing cock into the clasp that squeezed and tormented him. Tickling fingers brushed along his tightened balls, making them draw up further, preparing to empty their burden. 

Abruptly he was left bereft again. Throwing back his head he howled like a wounded animal. He needed the touch, had to have it. . . . Was that his voice? Were those sobbing, incoherent pleas coming from him? "No, no, no, please, oh god, don't stop now. . . ." 

"Shhh, hush now. I won't leave you like this. You've been very good. You even screamed for me and you haven't even come yet." 

Jim struggled to bring his jumbled thoughts together. It was an impossible task, there was nothing in his mind but the pain of his overwhelming hunger. A hint of aloe tickled his nostrils and he felt the unmistakable cool wetness of gel on the finger tips that had returned to probe his cleft. For a moment he tightened against the intrusion, but he couldn't deny the excruciating need that forced him to welcome this invasion of his body. 

The fingers left his tender opening, only to return with more of the soothing lotion that fueled the flames within him. Jim fought the restraints that kept him from impaling himself further. Bearing down, he struggled to open to the gentle prodding. Finally, finally he felt the exploring digits thrust deeper. 

"That's it, let me in. Open up for me." The crooning in his ear was almost more than he could bear. All of his dials were off line, his sense of touch spinning out of control. The touch of the breath was like nothing he'd ever felt before. With a hiss of warning, he tried to express how close he was to cascading over the edge. 

Jim yelped as his balls were grasped and firmly pulled down. "No, not yet. I'm not nearly finished with you yet." 

Trembling, he waited for what he knew was coming. He listened to the wet sound of lotion being smoothed onto flesh. Anticipation flared white hot through his groin, his heart pounding so powerfully Jim feared that it would burst from his chest. 

Then came the insistent push against his opening, something hotter and wider than the fingers that had entered him. The hard cock that had nudged against him earlier now demanding entrance to his body. Jim knew he should fight, knew he should try to struggle, even as he strained to open himself further. Another scream was wrenched from Jim as his captor buried himself balls deep, thrusting hard, pulling slowly out and surging back again. The incredible feeling of the plunging cock against his prostate pulled him spiraling into a zone-out. Time compressed in on itself, as his mind was lost to the waves of bliss. 

When Jim slowly became aware again, the thrusting that had frozen his thoughts had stilled. His hearing came back on line registering an insistent whisper that was dragging him back to reality. The words had little meaning. All he could register was the feeling of fullness, the evidence that he still had a thick cock buried deep inside his ass. 

With a moan he pushed back, urging the movements that had sent him into the zone to continue. A gasp greeted Jim's demanding shove and the determined thrusting began again. His cock was stroked in time with each plunge as his captor pounded into him - lean, muscular thighs slapping against his buttocks. 

And suddenly he was there; the incredible rush of his orgasm flowed through him and he screamed again and again. A shout rang in Jim's ears and the hot rush of wetness inside him revealed he hadn't gone over the precipice alone. 

The body that had hammered into him now slumped over his own lax form, both of them supported by the groaning banister. He feared for the supports a moment and then decided he didn't really care. After he caught his breath he tried to speak, only to discover his throat was so raw from his screams that he had to swallow repeatedly in order to make a sound. 

Finally, he was able to choke out a few words. "Christ Chief, one of these days you're going to kill me." 

"But what a way to go, huh?" The reply from his sated lover was strikingly unrepentant. 

Blair pulled slowly out of Jim's pliant body forcing another deep groan from the sentinel. "Man, that was so incredibly hot, babe. I can't believe how much I get off on seeing you tied up and spread out for me." 

"I can't believe I'm still tied up. Wanna get the key now Chief?" Jim fought back the urge to squirm, eager for his release. He listened as patiently as he could while Blair pulled his clothes back on. 

His guide crouched down at his feet releasing the spreader bar and cuffs. Jim sighed with relief as he pulled his tired legs together. The ropes that bound his chest to the railing loosened and dropped away. With a muted click the handcuffs were unlocked and removed. He stretched, releasing all remaining tension in his back and arms, then lifted his hands to the blindfold. 

"No babe, leave it on, I'll help you get your bearings." 

Jim reluctantly dropped his hands and let Blair take his arm, guiding him up the stairs. 

"How did you manage to get in without me knowing it, Chief?" 

"I called the station to find out when you'd be heading home and Simon told me you were already on your way. All I had to do was wait for you to get here and then I hid out on the fire escape until I heard the shower come on." 

Jim knew he should be disturbed by the sheer ease of his guide's deception, but he was still floating in a post coital daze and too tired to worry about it. Pliant and increasingly sleepy, he let himself drop face down onto the bed. Blair gently moved Jim until he was centered on the wide mattress and pulled his arms above his head. 

"Hey Chief, in case you forgot, I'm still in this blindfold." There was a pointed lack of response to his query. 

The bed dipped as his partner settled near his outstretched arms. Once again he felt the metallic click of a handcuff closing around his wrist. Jim jerked a moment too late and his other wrist was captured too. This pair had a longer chain and the sentinel fumbled for a minute, determining that they were looped through the railing at the head of the bed. 

"Blair?" 

"I was just thinking how hungry this has made me. I'm starving. The deli across the street should be open for another 30 minutes, what do you say to a nice salami on rye, Jim?" 

"That would be great Chief, get me loose and I'll set the table." Jim cocked his head as he registered the sound of Blair slipping into his shoes. "Come on Blair, what's the problem?" 

He jumped slightly as his guide softly patted his ass. "Don't worry Jim, I'll be right back . . . you just stay there, and think about round two." 

"No way! Chief. . . . Blair. . . . Get me loose. Damn it!" Jim's last words were interrupted by the slamming of the front door. With a deep sigh, he dropped his head back down on the bed realizing his captivity was far from over. 

End for now. 

(My conscience has attacked me: I can't end this without a gentle warning. Never, ever, for any reason leave a playmate alone when playing these sort of games. That means not even leaving the room. _Always_ play safely.  <g>) 


End file.
